


In The Beginning, (God Created Light)

by Slater_Babe



Series: First Time Feelings [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, Lowkey made Dan a bad guy sorry, Mild Angst, No Beta, Not Canon Compliant, Past Dan Espinoza/Chloe Decker, Pre-Established Relationship, Pregnancy, Pregnant Chloe Decker, Protective Lucifer Morningstar, We Die Like Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22065676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slater_Babe/pseuds/Slater_Babe
Summary: It’s been four months since Daniel transferred to Vernon. Five since the divorce. Six since Chloe peed on a plastic stick and technology spat out the figurative warning alarms along with all of her problems today.And Lucifer Morningstar never found human children very appealing, but in that moment, what hedidfind is that he’d do anything for Chloe Decker, baby or not.
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: First Time Feelings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588168
Comments: 16
Kudos: 154





	In The Beginning, (God Created Light)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~~ my name is Slater thanks for stopping by!! So I’ve completely binged Lucifer, and honestly, wanted to have some cute pregnancy fluff to go with it sooooo~ this is my first fic on this account!! Hope you all will like it! I wrote this in a single night just for fun, so sorry if it’s not all that great.
> 
> Just for context, Chloe is pregnant with Trixie at the time, but the characters and the setting remain the same otherwise.

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Let it be known, Lucifer Morningstar was no stranger to the human offspring.

Generally, he found the little miscreants quite off-putting. For one, they were far too dependent; he was lighting the universe a few days into his existence, yet these fussy creatures can’t even roll over on their own for the first few months?

Yeah, it’s not exactly Dad’s greatest miracle in hindsight (if it was a miracle at all. And seeing as the price of procreation was eighteen years of seemingly endless financial burden, then the odds were definitely looking grim in that respect.) 

However, even if he had the whole ‘teary eyed, messy diapers, no teeth’ aspect of children down pat by now, he’d never experienced it personally—and thank Dad for that. It’s only been five years, and, in those five years, he thinks he’s been entirely responsible.

Condoms in nearly every drawer of the penthouse, verbal consent always achieved before the act itself, and not a single case of raging chlamydia to prove him wrong—he’s checked all the metaphorical boxes.

Which is not something everyone can say. Not something _most_ people can say (and given his impressive track record, Lucifer thinks he’s got a right to brag when it comes to the matter of sex and everything therein.)

But even if he’d never knocked someone up, others certainly had. His precious Detective exhibit A in that regard, as much as he hates to say it. 

It’s been four months since Daniel transferred to Vernon. Five since the divorce. Six since Chloe peed on a plastic stick and technology spat out the figurative warning alarms along with all of her problems today.

Lucifer could never understand it. How could Chloe live with that _thing_ in her stomach—the (soon to be) living reminder of the man that had taken it all from her? How could she care for, or love the child, when it had been an accident? A product of a bad night and an even worse marriage?

Some relationships just weren’t meant to be. And as much as Lucifer respects Daniel for taking the high road and not being a complete dick about the divorce, he despises him just as much for what came after.

Specifically for leaving Chloe when she was six months pregnant, a belly Lucifer knows he couldn’t stand on himself growing steadily on her, and a bad case of peanut butter cravings increasing on the daily.

But, nevertheless, Chloe still gets up every morning, rubs cocoa butter on her belly, takes her multivitamins, arms herself with a certain strength even the Devil couldn’t muster, and marches out the house in her Madewell Jeggings (no matter how much she missed her Levi’s) to show the rest of the LAPD what it took to be an actual detective.

But now, six months had slowly waxed to seven, and, no matter how hard she tried, Chloe couldn’t avoid maternity leave forever.

Which is currently what’s landed them in the penthouse. He’s nursing a glass of whiskey, much to the detective’s chagrin, who’s cradling a wine glass full of apple juice instead.

(Normally, Lucifer had nothing but liquor behind the counter. Even if he found children repulsive, damn, if he wasn’t going to protect Decker’s baby with all his might, whether it had exited her vagina yet or not.)

“Now, now, Detective. No need to start with the crocodile tears just yet,” he punctually tapped the bottle of whiskey against the glass bar top, Chloe swirling her apple juice with—dare he say—a pout on her lips, “the party’s just begun. Now that the long knob of the law is out of the way, we’ve got three more months of fast food, shopping sprees, and beach trips to look forward to. Am I right, Detective?”

He tries to catch her eyes with a smile, genuinely happy they’ve caught this break. Chloe worked herself to the bone on any regular day, but a pregnant, hormonal, heartbroken Chloe mixed with police work served to drive Chloe herself, Lucifer, and the rest of the LAPD to the brink of exhaustive collapse just about every other hour.

Honestly, it’s a miracle the new Lieutenant hadn’t kicked them out sooner, Lucifer thinks as he takes a swig of his drink.

It’s only when the glass is removed from his vision that he realizes Chloe’s burst into tears, eyes screwed shut and wine glass still (regretfully) full of fruit juice.

He nearly spits out his drink.

After coughing he manages a gruff, “When I said ‘crocodile tears,’ I didn’t mean it literally, Detective.”

She sniffles, unusually meek, as he rounds the bar. He takes a liberal sip, draining the glass. He grabs her by the shoulders, swirling her barstool to face him. Absently, he realizes her hands are shaking, and that this might be a lot worse than he originally anticipated. 

(Due to the height difference, he has to crouch to meet her eye. Usually, she’d have something to say about his doing that, but she just continues weeping, small sobs escaping her lips. His heart just about rips to shreds.)

“Detective,” he whispers, her swimming, blue eyes staring up into his own, and it’s then that he realizes he’d move heaven, hell, and everything in between for Chloe Decker. For Chloe Decker’s baby. Whether it was his baby or not. Whether his dad liked it that way or not. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks carefully.

“I don’t know!” She wails desperately, tears decorating her reddened cheeks.

The apple juice spills, dribbles of it falling onto the tile by his shoes. He follows the movement with his eyes, but before he can even comprehend what’s happened, he has an armful of a distressed Chloe, her face buried in the crook of his neck, arms locked precariously over his back.

He nearly stumbles, eyes going wide with the overwhelming emotions that overtake him. Her sobs ring throughout the penthouse, tears staining his Armani in tandem. He can’t bring himself to touch her; it feels wrong, somehow. Like he’d be taking something he was never supposed to have in the first place.

He may have lit the first stars, hung them in the sky for humanity to marvel at, but the ecstasy he felt then is nothing compared to the warmth blooming in his chest at the detective’s every touch.

He can feel her swollen belly pressing into him, warm and firm against his contrastingly flat abdomen. A pulse he swears he could almost feel, if he just got close enough.

He exhales and opens his eyes to stare daggers into the offending air around them, hands coming up to cradle her lower back and pull her flush against him.

“I just…” she sobs, voice waterlogged and ragged, “Work was all I had left, Lucifer. I—I want so badly just to let it all go, but I’m so…”

He can feel her sharp breaths against his neck, each sporadic pull of her lungs an omen for what’s to come. 

“...so _scared.”_

The heartbreak, emotions, inexperience, anxiety—it’s all bubbling over now and will most certainly bubble over in the future.

 _Whose_ feelings those are is the question, really. 

She sobs even harder at the admission, burying her face in his shoulder, like his body could hide what was trying to eat her whole. In the moment, she feels small and fragile in his arms like never before—like she’d shatter if he held her wrong. So he takes care to touch her like she’s porcelaine, to hold her like she’s the light he nurtured all those years ago.

Before the light was locked out.

Before Heaven’s gates closed for good.

Before any of this.

“Don’t worry, Detective,” he whispers between her frightened hiccups. He holds her close, a hand coming to rest on her belly, just to see if he could catch a glimpse of the baby’s pulse.

She pulls him closer. He holds her tighter.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he murmurs into her hair, Chloe sighing something ragged and incoherent in response. He doesn’t ask for clarification, but figures he doesn’t need to. The way her fingers clutch the lapels of his jacket are telling enough.

With her safely tucked against him, he finally closes his eyes, and tries to imagine what’d be like to die in her embrace.

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**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked this little bit!! I will definitely be adding more to this AU, but pls comment!! I’ll answer as fast as I can. Happy New Years!!!


End file.
